


Furyous Books

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Friendship, Fury might get mad, Gen, Humor, Reading, To Kill A Mockingbird - Freeform, Tony on Boo Radley, book clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt at Avengerkink:  SHIELD has caught Steve up on the history that he missed. The Avengers filled in most of the gaps there and started catching him up on pop culture, mostly via film, TV, and music. And when Steve reads on his own, he mostly seeks out SF/F or mysteries. But then the Avengers find out: Steve has never read To Kill a Mockingbird. They decide this must be rectified.</p>
<p>In which Clint has a bird named Atticus, Tony likes Boo, Joseph Heller is suggested, and Steve knows he still has things to catch up on and tries to figure out why Clint likes TKAMB so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furyous Books

**Author's Note:**

> Full Prompt from Avengerkink: SHIELD has caught Steve up on the history that he missed. The Avengers filled in most of the gaps there and started catching him up on pop culture, mostly via film, TV, and music. And when Steve reads on his own, he mostly seeks out SF/F or mysteries. But then the Avengers find out: Steve has never read To Kill a Mockingbird. They decide this must be rectified.
> 
> +1 if Natasha has never read it either  
> +10 if this starts an Avengers (and/or SHIELD) book club  
> +100 if the reason they find out he's never read it is because someone has a pet named Atticus and he doesn't get the reference  
> +100000 if that person is Clint and the pet is a house finch.
> 
> Hand-wave Coulson!Lives! 
> 
> Thanks to lexxorz for beta genius and tweaking the name of the book club.

Clint was hurt, and Steve was sitting at a conference room table with photos and notes spread out everywhere, along with a video feed that he could rewind and play back – God, the words he used now that he didn’t even know a year ago. Sometimes he’d think of something casually, like ‘blu-ray’ or ‘cell phone,’ and then be completely startled at how he knew the word and what it implied. But he did know these words, and he knew the technology, and he needed to try and figure out what the hell he and Phil had done wrong in their strategy that morning.

Because Clint had been in surgery for three hours already thanks to an explosion that the terrorist should _not_ have been able to detonate. He was expected to recover, but they had to find all the shrapnel first.

Steve didn’t want this to happen again.

So he ran the video at least six times, shuffled through the photos, and looked at the specs Tony had given them before they went to take the guy building robot soldiers down, but he still couldn’t find it. He was getting ready to run the video again when Natasha came into the conference room with a cup of coffee. She was wearing jeans with leather boots and a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she was running on fumes.

“Hey,” she said, setting the cup down in front of him. “Clint’s out of surgery.”

He snapped his head up and leaned back in his chair. “How is he?”

She shrugged. “He came through okay. The doctor says there’ll be a lot of pain for a few days, and shooting is going to be tough for a while, but he’ll recover. I thought you would want to know.” She paused. “You should let it alone,” she said, gesturing at the mess on the table.

He just sighed and nodded. “I don’t want it to happen again.”

She smiled. “It might anyway. But you can’t do anything else here. I thought maybe you could keep me company while I go to Phil and Clint’s apartment to grab a bag of things Phil asked for. He won’t leave medical.”

Steve nodded. “Sure.” Besides words he’d learned in the last year, he’d learned about how much the culture had changed. Still not enough, in his opinion, but when he found out about Clint and Phil and did some reading about gay rights, he was glad that some things had changed. It kind of led him down a rabbit hole of cultural awareness issues, and Tony had laughed when Steve ran through a whole bunch of Hollywood movies about these things. He didn’t care. He learned a lot and he was just glad for Clint and Phil that they could sit with each other at the hospital and hold hands.

Steve understood the value of being _able_ to hold someone you love.

He and Natasha drove to the apartment that Phil and Clint kept. They both had rooms at the Tower, but had insisted on keeping their own space as well. They divided time pretty equally, and had gatherings at their place for everyone regularly. Steve loved it at their place. They had a practical greenhouse in their living room, dining room, and kitchen; plants spilled out over every possible shelf and bookcase and free counter space.

There was a small stone fountain on top of their glass coffee table, and they also had a balcony with a view of a city park – they had joked with Steve that neither of them had spent any of the money they ever made with SHIELD until they moved in together, so they could afford the view. That’s when Steve found out how much an apartment in New York cost these days and his jaw had dropped embarrassingly.

Clint and Phil had never batted an eye when Steve would show up on their doorstep with his sketchbook and pencils and head straight for the balcony. They’d leave him alone as a general rule, except to bring him lemonade and an occasional snack. More often than not, Phil would join Steve on the balcony with a book a while after he showed up and they’d sit in companionable silence, enjoying the space together.

They had a tall, oak bookshelf in the corner of their dining room that was filled with books. Clint told him they were mostly Phil’s and they both said he could borrow any he’d wanted. He had taken them up on it, and between that shelf and the tablet computer Tony had fitted him with, Steve had  been reading more in the last year than he’d ever done in his life.

Natasha headed straight for the shelf when they got to the apartment. She scanned the shelf and muttered to herself, “Oh my God, he’s got them alphabetical by author’s last name...” and she found what she was looking for quickly. Then she headed to the bedroom for a few minutes and reappeared with a duffel bag. She made one stop in the kitchen and called out to Steve, “Can you feed Atticus while I finish up in here?”

So he turned to one of his very favorite pieces of their apartment, though it was new. Clint had just shown him a few days ago. There was a beautiful unpolished brass birdcage hanging in one corner of the living room, and it was ornate, with three tiers. Sitting on the middle tier and whistling loudly was a beautiful nut brown finch with an orange beak. Steve thought it was the prettiest bird he’d ever seen. He’d said so when he was first introduced, and Phil had smiled and told him it was Clint’s bird, something he’d always wanted but had never been able to have until they got their apartment. It filled the apartment with a song and Steve loved it.

He fed the bird, talking to it a bit, and then he and Natasha headed back to the hospital.

After he gave Phil the bag and volunteered to make a food run, he settled in to wait with Phil and Natasha. He had his tablet, and Tony had loaded a few books on there, so he pulled up Hemingway and started in.

When Clint woke a while later, he tried to joke around about the bomb, but his eyes were tight with pain and he only lasted a few minutes before he hit the morphine button and fell back asleep.  Phil settled back down in his chair with his head in his hands, and Steve left them alone for a bit.

He came back after a few hours, after a run and a shower, and he was approaching the room when he heard Phil’s voice, clearly reading.

“Inside the house lived a malevolent phantom. People said he existed, but Jem and I had never seen him. People said he went out at night when the moon was down, and peeped in people’s windows. When people’s azaleas froze in a cold snap it was because he breathed on them. . . “ Coulson trailed off as he noticed Steve standing in the doorway to the room. “Hey, Steve. Come on in,” he said quietly.

Steve saw him put the book down; it was the one Natasha had taken from their apartment earlier. He hovered in the doorway. “I just wanted to say hi and see how Clint was doing,” he said to Phil as he approached Clint’s bed. “Hey.”

Clint’s face was covered in scratches and one bandage along the left side of his jaw, and his arms were peppered with red and a few bandages. He had his eyes closed when Steve came into the room, but he opened them now and smiled weakly. “Hey, Cap,” he said, his voice thin.

“How’re you doing?” Steve asked, stationed at the end of his bed.

Clint closed his eyes briefly. “Everything hurts, but the doc says it’ll calm down in a day or two.”

“Can I bring you anything?” Steve asked. “Some of those doughnuts you always buy? Maybe I can sneak some in.”

Clint grinned full-on at that. “Those’re Phil’s, and yeah, I bet he’d love some.”

Steve laughed and looked over at Phil, who was smiling sheepishly. “Okay, I’ll bring a few packs in a bit. Now what about for Clint?”

“I’m not up for much yet, Steve, but thanks,” Clint replied, sounding tired. “Bring Phil some doughnuts and coffee so he can keep reading and that’ll help both of us.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Rest up. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He left for the cafeteria, but he ended up having to leave the building to find a cheap convenience mart for the doughnuts. Since he was out, he grabbed a few coffees from the nearby Caribou shop, a blueberry muffin in case Clint was hungry, and some coffee cake in case Natasha showed back up.

She did. She was curled up in a chair when Steve got back, and Phil was reading again. Clint was staring at the ceiling, and they all sat up when Steve came in. Phil practically salivated at the sight of the doughnuts, Natasha didn’t even wait to be offered the coffee cake, and Clint was eyeing the coffee jealously. They settled in to eat and talk, keeping Clint company and giving Phil a break from the book.

“What are you reading, Phil?” Steve asked around a swig of the juice he’d bought for himself.

Phil smiled and said, “ _To Kill A Mockingbird_.”

Clint sighed and sleepily said, “It’s my favorite.”

“Takes his mind off the pain, he always says,” Phil added.

Natasha said, “I’ve never read it.”

Phil got a horrified look on his face and Steve added, “Me, neither, of course.”

Clint groaned, “Oh God. How are you two my friends?”

At that moment, Bruce and Tony walked in to check on Clint.

“What’s up, pincushion?” Tony asked, grabbing the extra coffee from the table without a pause.

“Steve and Natasha have never read _To Kill A Mockingbird_ ,” Phil said, opening his second pack of doughnuts.

Bruce shook his head. “That is sad.”

Tony nodded reverently. “Boo Radley, motherfuckers.”

Clint laughed and then hissed, “Ow, fuck. Tony, god damn it.”

“What?” Tony answered. “I could’ve gone with Atticus Finch, motherfuckers, too.” He paused and cocked his head. “Both work well.”

“Atticus Finch?” Natasha said, and Steve laughed.

“That’s your new bird,” he said, grinning at Clint.

Clint nodded. “Yep. That’s why. Atticus is a badass, Steve. You have to read the book.”

“Wait,” Tony said. “You have a bird named Atticus?”

“Tell me it’s not a finch,” Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Of course it is,” Phil said. “He insisted. I didn’t even get a vote on the bird’s name.”

“You didn’t even want the bird, asshole,” Clint retorted.

Phil shrugged. “I have to share space with it. I could have at least had a vote. He could have been Peter.”

“Oh my god, Coulson. You’re a bigger nerd than your boyfriend,” Tony groaned.

“Did we mention that Steve and Natasha have not read this book?” Phil said, clearly diverting. It worked.

“You should read it,” Tony said earnestly. Bruce nodded his agreement.

“There’s no fucking ‘should’ about it,” Clint said, and he suddenly sounded very tired.

Phil stood and moved to his side. “You need to rest. I’ll keep reading later.”

“Can’t be my friends, you know,” Clint said, ignoring Phil and glancing up at Steve and over at Natasha. “Not if you haven’t read that book.”

“I’ll put it on Steve’s tablet right now,” Tony said, grabbing the thing from where Steve had set it on the counter in the corner.

“Natasha and I will stop at the bookstore later,” Bruce added. “Clint, you should rest. We’ll leave you alone. It’s good to see you up, though.”

Clint nodded. “Thanks, guys.” And he pushed the button to lay the bed flat. “Don’t even know what a ‘hero’ is if they haven’t read that fucking book,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Everyone filed out and Steve looked over at Phil. “You want to go get some sleep or at least a shower?” he asked. “I can read to him if he wakes up again.”

Phil agreed reluctantly to at least go grab a shower and maybe stop by the cafeteria for something a little more substantial than doughnuts. Steve settled into the chair with his tablet. Tony had already loaded the book onto it, as well as a link to some articles about it. Steve clicked on the book and began reading.

When Phil got back an hour later, Clint was still asleep and Steve was engrossed, but a bit puzzled.

He watched as Phil settled down in the other chair and then he said, “I’m kind of surprised Clint likes this book so much.”

“Why?” Phil replied.

“Well, I guess I might not be far enough in, but I figured he’d like stories with action. This is about little kids.”

Phil grinned. “Well, you’re not done yet, so I won’t comment about  what it’s ‘about,’ but you have to remember about Clint’s family.”

Steve had heard a few references here and there to a lousy childhood. “Envy?” he tried.

Phil crossed his arms. “Maybe. What have you read about Atticus so far?”

Steve thought for a moment. The man he pictured in his head was tall and a little bit stoic, strong but gentle. “He’s a good father. Honest with the kids, that’s for sure. Seems to have a good reputation in town and with his neighbors.”

Phil nodded. “Clint’s father was an alcoholic who beat his kids and didn’t even hold them in enough regard to lie to them, much less be honest with them.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “Wait ‘till you meet Bob Ewell.”

Steve did meet Ewell, and all the other characters, as Clint recovered over the next few days. Natasha did, too, and he found himself discussing the book at the kitchen table with her or with Clint when he was awake. He loved it, and by the time he finished it he could easily see how a guy like Clint would love it, too.

It was about fathers and heroes.

After he was discharged, Clint stayed at the Tower instead of being alone at his apartment for a while until he felt better. Tony laughed at them one day as he walked into the kitchen where Clint sat nursing some coffee and a muffin while Steve ate a plateful of pancakes and talked about Mayella Ewell.

“You kids should start a book club or something, the way you’re all sitting around analyzing this book,” Tony announced.

Steve didn’t think anything about the comment until Phil pushed another book across the table that night at dinner. Steve read the cover. “Catch-22. Is it good?”

Phil shrugged. “I liked it. It’s about war. Sort of.”

“It’s crazy,” Bruce added.

“So’s war,” Tony piped in.

“Kind of the point of the book,” Phil stated.

“I haven’t read it,” Clint sighed. “I’m a guy with a narrow frame of reference for literary stuff. I like it, but I have. . . gaps.”

“The circus didn’t have a book club?” Tony joked. Clint just shrugged and shook his head.

“I should read it, then,” Natasha said, raising an eyebrow. “I have gaps, too.”

“God help us. We’re really starting a book club,” Tony said, exasperated.

Everyone just looked at each other, shrugging and nodding. It sure looked like it.

Tony insisted on drafting the bylaws and picking the name. Later, he threatened to print t-shirts with “Furyous Books” printed on them.

No one really said no.

 

 


End file.
